Sides
by Dragongirl of the Stars
Summary: Ororo dies, lives, but remembers none of it. Mystique is framed, Erik's daughter goes missing. Both Guilds receive an offer. Quicksilver works unwillingly. A precognitive teen shows up with a cat. And all are pieces on His chessboard. Rolo,Romy&more.
1. End?

**One: End?**

Lightning, rain, hail, wind. Everywhere. Crashing and whipping past in a furious gale. Soaking to the bone.

All in vain.

He dodged the lightning. He could outrun the wind. The rain didn't fall hard enough to deter him, the hail moved too slow. She hovered high above in the very centre of the chaos, the swirling vortex of cinder-black clouds. He advanced, carefully but too quickly. In her desperation the raging storm grew ever stronger.

But not strong enough. Never strong enough. Never _fast_ enough.

He used his speed to scale the outer wall of the abandoned compound; she aimed and struck, electricity crackling through the heavy air – but he skirted around it, swinging himself to the top of the wall. Momentum and speed and strength fuelled his leap, and suddenly he was flying straight at her, arms outstretched. She reached out to strike again—

Collision.

And she was falling.

They fell fast, landed hard. Her breath was sucked from her lungs, arm twisted unnaturally beneath her. She could feel the storm dissipating as her concentration was shattered. Her lungs wouldn't inflate; her vision faded in and out; rain stung her eyes and her back screamed. Something warm oozed down her face from her temple and she couldn't feel her legs. Pain, so much pain...

He was on his feet – she'd broken his fall. Through blurred vision she saw him pull back his leg; his specialised shoe collided with her side and she bit back a scream, gasping for oxygen. Her rib snapped with the force.

Fingers closed around her throat and he lifted her from the ground completely; she dangled. His other hand, _fist_, met her face. _Crack_. Immediately her eye began to swell shut; blood trickled into her other. She couldn't breathe. Her body screamed in agonised protest. He pulled his hand back again, deliberately slow, taking aim for another hit.

"Don'...." The words were thick in her mouth, mingling with blood. "Don't... we can... h-hel—"

His grip tightened; she choked. Through fading vision she saw the hateful scowl.

"You can't help me," he snarled. "You could never help me. You can't help any of us."

"Quicksilver..." it was a gurgle. The world was tunnelling...

"Go to hell, Munroe."

His fist met her stomach, once, twice, and then she was flying.

All the way to the bottom of the cliff.

* * *

_Any good? I know, I'm such a bad girl._


	2. Bend

**Two: Bend**

The Lowrider's growl reverberated through his body as he rounded another curve. Canadian wilderness rushed past; he was headed south again. Six months had been enough this time – even if the mansion would never be the same. _Her_ memory lingered everywhere. But this time she was truly gone.

He'd come to terms with all of that now.

Everything changed, everything aged – he knew that. That's how it all worked. People died. Children grew up and became adults, then they died too. The world was constantly shifting, morphing, advancing. Every day. Every moment. For better or worse.

Yeah, the world changed all the time. He just didn't change with it.

Wind whipped at his face as he rode on, tearing down the road with a practiced ease. Headed south again – for New York. For Westchester. For _home_.

The Wolverine was headed home.


	3. Moonlight

**Three: Moonlight**

_Moonlight._

_Bright. Almost too bright. Straight up._

_And wet. Very wet. Wet and cold. Wet is... bad._

_And pain. Pain, pain... everywhere. Everywhere? Mm, everywhere. Sore._

_Bad smell... Dirt. Dirt smells. Wet dirt. Uncomfortable. Moon is so bright... There, a tall shadow..._

_No. Wall._

_Wall?_

_Wall. Dirt and rock wall... Cliff._

_Up....?_

_Mm, go up._

_Dig into wall, pull up. Climb. Up... up... up. Very high. But no fear. Easy. Simple. Just climbing._

_Ledge. Just there. Up... and on top. Good. Easy. Mm... doesn't hurt so much..._

_More wet ground. More walls – smaller walls... Buildings? Buildings. Empty. No one here. Very wet. Smells bad. Dirty. _

_Not safe here. Leave. Need to leave. Where?_

_Ledges... tall... Tower. Up!_

_Run, jump high. Very high. Easy. Leap, swing. Climb over. Stand. _

_Top!_

_...Lights. Many... So many lights, smells, noises, feelings. _

_There._

_Home._

_Wet ground... Ignore it. Go to the lights._

_Run. Jump. Land lightly, on the ground again. So easy. _

_Run... run... run..._

_Home._

* * *

From atop a dilapidated supply shed a small figure smiled softly. Her thin fingers ran through the soft, dark fur of the creature at her side. The spectator turned her gaze on the animal_._

The cat blinked knowingly at the figure, then rose on all fours and disappeared into the black of night without a sound.

_It's done_, the spectator thought, watching the creature vanish into the shadows. _Now we wait_.

* * *

A weird and confusing chapter, yes. But all will pull together. My Muse is just... sporadic, at best.

And thanks to **GlassSuicune** for reviewing and to **blackrose5242** and **Satansbratn** for the story alert – and though I don't speak German, to 'Bratn I say _tausend danke!_


	4. Mission

**Four: Missions**

"It's done."

The words were clipped and harsh. He stood ramrod straight, stiff, tense, not daring give away any of the emotions that threatened to explode in all directions.

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?" There was that dangerous, misleading amusement again. He tried very hard to not hesitate, tried not to think of the ways that the other mutant could have survived the fall from the cliff. Failure meant fate worse than death – for himself, and for... His heart squeezed painfully. _Don't think of it or anything else.__ Think of nothing.  
_

Jaw tight, he nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yes."

The figure across from him turned his chair around, a silhouette against the moonlight flooding in from the wall-length window behind him – the only light in the entire room. He steepled his fingers, forearms braced against the large glass desk sitting between them.

"Very _very_ sure?"

The younger mutant resisted the impulse to swallow. _Can he hear my heart pounding? Can he smell my fear?_

"Yes. It's done."

The man in the leather chair smiled pleasantly, another misleading gesture. "Good," he purred. "I was beginning to worry that you would not be as useful as I had originally thought. I'm glad that is not the case. Now." The man's voice became soft, but held an edge that sounded deadlier than even his amusement had. A thin folder was slid across the desk and into view, illuminated by a sliver of moonshine. "Your next assignment. The instructions are inside, and you must be back in no more than forty hours. Is this clear?"

A tight nod was all he could manage as he retrieved the folder.

"Good. You are dismissed."

He automatically turned and moved stiffly for the door.

"Oh, and Pietro?"

He stopped, waiting with well-concealed fear.

"She's been calling for you." _As if it was the weather_. "I don't think you want to keep her waiting."

Quicksilver continued out the door and closed it quietly behind him. He said and thought of nothing until he arrived in his quarters on the bottom floor of the tower.

Then for the rest of the night he sat in the shower beneath the scalding stream of water and cried.


	5. Filling Gaps

This is longer, if a little dry, but a necessary filler. ;) Everything else will kick up pretty quick, though.

Oh, and because I forgot in the last four chaps: I don't own, I don't own, I don't own, I don't own, and for God's sake, this is fanfiction, I DON'T OWN.

* * *

**Five: Filling Gaps**

Ororo stretched languidly as she awoke.

Yawning deeply, she slid from beneath her thick duvet and stood, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, then slowly opened them to take in the early morning.

...And was nearly blinded.

Startled by the painful brightness, Ororo threw her hand up in front of her face, gasping. A few moments and much blinking later, she could see again. Was it always this bright in the morning? Did she sleep in? _What time is it?_

Ororo located her clock and frowned; it was after seven! Why hadn't her alarm gone off? Had she slept through it? She'd never done that before. _Well it doesn't matter now. I have an interview in less than an hour..._ That didn't leave much time for a shower. _Did I shower yesterday? I don't recall if I..._ She quickly calculated that the shower would have to wait. Bathed or not, she needed teachers for the upcoming semester, and the interviews had to come first.

The weather-witch hurried to her bathroom, already scheduling out the day in her head. Ororo rinsed her face with the tap and ran a brush through her hair. The silvery strands were lengthening again; she needed a trim. _Although that's going to have to wait, too. I have so much else to do..._

Reaching across the counter for a small foundation compact, Ororo accidentally knocked her brush off the marble top. In her haste to snatch it, she tripped over something in the floor and nearly fell face-first into the tile. Regaining her balance almost miraculously, she looked down to identify the offending object.

Her mouth became a confused O. _Is that...? It is!_

Her leather X-Man suit lay in a heap on the bathroom floor – her _ripped and bloody_ X-Man suit.

Ororo picked up the article and inspected it closer. How had it ended up here? She hadn't suited up since her last Danger Room session with the Junior X-Men, _two_ _weeks_ _ago_. And it surely hadn't been here last night.

Her frown deepened.

Had it?

She thought back and struck a sold blank. _What _did_ I do yesterday?_

Ororo all but jumped out of her skin when a series of sharp raps sounded from the other room, obnoxiously loud. Someone was knocking – _pounding_, rather – on her door.

"Miss Munroe?" a familiar voice called, muffled by distance and wood yet high in volume all the same; it sounded like Kitty Pryde. "Miss 'Ro, there's a Mr Winters here to see you for an interview. He's waiting at the gate. Should I let him in?"

Ororo discarded the suit into her bathtub with one last frown before rushing to stand next to her closed door, fighting off a panic. He was early!

"Yes, Kitty," she forced out with more confidence than she felt, suddenly glad she was speaking past a door. "Please show him up. I will be down in a minute."

"Okay," the teen called back, still much too loud for this time of the morning. Her footsteps thudded back down the hall, but vanished suddenly as the girl most likely disappeared through a wall. Ororo heaved a sigh, running her fingers across her scalp and mussing her previously ordered hair.

_I simply don't have time for anything these days._ She pressed her fingers to her temples, briefly shutting her eyes. _How did Xavier do it all?_ Her gaze wandered to the bathroom, where she could still see her leather suit sitting in the basin of her shower, caked in blood and dirt. That mystery would have to wait, too.

Ororo looked down at herself, realising she was only clad in a silk pyjama shirt and her underwear.

_Clothes first, then I have to get going._

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Miraculously, Ororo made it downstairs just as Kitty arrived at the Institute doors with Mr Winters in tow. Smoothing her shirt, the white-haired mutant quickly organised her thoughts and gathered her confidence. A brief image of the Wolverine standing casually in the hallway flashed across her mind; _Relax, 'Ro_, she imagined Logan saying. _It's just an interview. Ya don't need t'get so worked up._

The scene evaporated as Winters approached, hand politely outstretched. Ororo forced herself back into reality. _Logan's gone. He's been gone for a while and probably will be for a while longer. Focus on the present..._

"Welcome to Xavier's," Ororo managed to scarcely miss a beat. "I'm very glad you could come, Mr Winters. Would you like to get started right away, or would you like a tour first?"

The man smiled a little – he was thirty-six, according to his résumé, but looked ten years younger. She supposed it helped that he was over six-foot tall and had a head full of fair hair. "Whatever would be more convenient for you," he responded, courteous as a gentleman. "I know it's a little early. Maybe we should wait until everyone is up and around?"

Ororo didn't bother to mention that most of the mansion's summer inhabitants were 'up and around' practically at dawn, either by choice or habit. Instead she smiled and nodded.

"Of course. We can do the interview first and then a tour." She turned to the junior X-Man. "And thank you Kitty, you can go to breakfast now."

Katherine Pryde looked slightly mystified as to how Ororo had known she'd originally been headed for breakfast, but nodded and scurried off. Ororo suppressed a small grin: years of working with Charles had been beneficial for her observational skills. She looked back to her interviewee, attempting to hide her now desperate hope behind a confident smile.

"My office is just upstairs. Shall we begin?"

--

The interview was a success. Mr Winters – Reggie, he preferred to be called – was a confident, dedicated man with extensive knowledge on European history and the English language. He was bookish but confessed to enjoying football – _"The European kind, of course,"_ – as well as a kind of martial arts that Ororo had never heard of. Above all, he was a mutant. He'd even graced himself with a nickname: Abstergo. Ororo had been blank at first, and then he'd explained that it was a Latin word that correlated with his ability – the power to "repair" inorganic materials.

Ororo had done her best to not show how desperate she was or to appear too eager, she truly had, but had been unable to refrain from flashing a relieved smile and saying, "I look forward to having you here, Mr Winters."

Obviously pleased, he'd said, "Thank you. And call me Reggie, please." And he'd shaken her hand like a proper gentleman.

Now they walked the halls of the Institute as Ororo babbled about the importance and purpose of each section of the mansion, introducing him to any summertime residents they happened to pass. Bobby Drake had been among the first to cross their path, and while more than willing to demonstrate his power, he didn't seem enthusiastic about much of anything. Ororo recalled overhearing from one of the other students that Drake and Rogue – Marie D'Ancanto, as she was less commonly known – had recently experienced a falling out. _He must not be taking it very well_. She didn't need training to deduce that much.

Eventually Ororo led Reggie "Abstergo" Winters back to the front of the mansion. She'd managed to familiarise him with more than half of the mansion in little under an hour, as the man had proved a sharp eye for detail. Ororo was beyond relieved at the result of her morning; a terrible weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She'd found a teacher! She was making progress!

"I hope you will choose to stay with us, Mr Winters," Ororo was saying. "The students are looking forward to the new school year, and if you're willing to accept the position..."

Ororo had taken an extra second to formulate the rest of her sentence, but Winters beat her to the punch, clutching his thick file of paperwork with one arm and holding up a hand to politely interject.

"I'm looking forward to teaching them, Miss Munroe." And he smiled again, although more solemnly. "Thank _you_ for having me. After the incident with the Cure and the attack on Liberty Island... all of the schools and universities I've been to have turned me away because I am a mutant. Here, well..." he shrugged, then smiled genuinely. "I could certainly get used to Xavier's."

He shook her hand again, bidding her farewell and turning down an escort to the gate; Winters descended the stairs and started back down the path, long legs carrying him quickly across the grounds. As Ororo watched him go, the sky high above the mansion cleared of its morning mist and the sun began to warm the grounds. Oblivious to the change she'd influenced, the weather-witch turned and started back inside, relief emanating off her in waves.

She took five steps forward and stopped, heart pausing in its beating. A familiar rumbling could be heard in the distance, growing louder every second.

She knew that rumble well.

Oh, she knew that rumble very well. Perhaps _too _well.

How many times had she wished she'd heard it? How often had she revelled in that hope?

Ororo rushed back outside, shading her eyes against the brightening daylight. She stood on the edge of the steps, gazing down the gravel road, waiting. She couldn't stop smiling.

Logan was back.

* * *

_Reggie's all I got. :D No take! Borrowing is allowed, with PERMISSION, but otherwise no touchy!  
_

I'll try to post something at least once a week, but it'll most likely be every other weekend. 'View? Pweese?


	6. Lost Time

I meant to try a New Years update, but I failed. Obviously. Instead I'm three days late. Sorry for the long wait, but this chap is pretty long to make up for it!

Reviews are much loved and critique is much appreciated. Both would be lovely. ;) You all know that, of course.

**I don't own. DISNEY does. XP**

* * *

**Six: Lost Time**

_I'm not the same as yesterday_

_It's hard to explain how things have changed,_

_But I'm not the same as before._

(_E for Extinction_, Thousand Foot Krutch)

* * *

**(Wolverine)**

She was standing on the steps when he pulled up.

Logan dismounted his bike and took his time as he ascended the stairs, stopping right in front of her when he reached the top. They stared at each other for a long moment, wearing identical almost-smiles.

Ororo Munroe broke the stillness by throwing her arms around the other mutant, catching him in a deathgrip of a hug. Dropping his dingy pack, Logan returned the embrace – if not quite as enthusiastically. When she pulled away – finally – she leaned back and folded her arms across her chest,still wearing a smile.

But he sensed a tiredness hidden in the small upturn of her mouth, one that came from more than lack of sleep. One he knew well. One he was good at hiding.

"Decided to come back and visit the X-geeks?" She asked, her tone deceptively light and teasing. Logan bent to pick up his sorry excuse for a duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder, buying himself time to form an answer. _Just out with it._ Six months of recovery and self-discovery or not, the Wolverine would never be capable of participating in sappy reunion scenes.

So he grinned a little and said, "I think I'm gonna be around for a while."

Ororo smiled genuinely this time, a tiny amount of that fatigue lifting from her face.

"Welcome back, Logan."

And she led him inside.

* * *

The mansion seemed just as he'd left it six months ago: full of kids but yet miraculously tidy. Still, there was a lingering undertone of something different in the atmosphere. Not that he found it surprising. That whole "change" thing happened a lot, and six months was a long time for a place like Xavier's. At the Institute, Logan was mostly convinced that there wasn't much that _couldn't_ happen in six months.

And apparently, as Storm continued to fill him in, a lot _had_ happened.

She'd started out with little things – the students' progress, the mansion's growing reputation, etc. Eventually she led into the more significant of her information: she was looking for new teachers, and the tall guy he'd passed on the way in was soon to be one of them. Hank McCoy – the big furry blue guy, Beast – had refused the promotion offered to him by the president, the position as Ambassador of Mutant Affairs, in order to join the Institute instead. Big Blue was the current medic for the school.

A distinct lack of lovesickness gratified Logan as he was hit with a sudden memory of Jean. He retreated into his head for a moment, just to assure himself that the grief was really gone, that he wasn't just kidding himself anymore. But the familiar twinge did not come, and he gladly returned to the present. Ororo had been talking as they walked toward the teacher's wing, but had abruptly paused. She was staring into the middle distance, head slightly tipped to the side. Then—

BAMF.

"Aaah!"

Kurt Wagner – the source of the cry – reflexively jerked backwards, narrowly avoiding the claws that had come dangerously close to taking his head off. Too startled to teleport away, he stumbled over his own feet and was promptly acquainted with the floor. Logan let out a frustrated sigh and retracted his claws again, trying to smother the sudden rush of adrenaline in his veins.

"Goddammit, 'Crawler, how many times have I told you – use a friggin' door!"

Kurt scurried to his feet, pointed tail whipping about. "Herr Logan! My apologiez, I did not know you vere back! Vhen did you arrive?" But he seemed to shake himself, catching Ororo's eye instead. The weather-witch had already calmed her surprise, most likely accustomed to his sudden appearances. "It is good to see you in one piece, Fraulien," he said, then offered a small smile, showing a sliver of startling white teeth. "You vere successful?"

Ororo stared at the teleporter for a long moment. Logan caught the blank look and raised a brow, but said nothing; he folded his arms across his chest and waited for the conversation to play out.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Kurt," she eventually replied.

The blue demon glanced between the headmistress and Logan, looking a little nervous at the latter's presence. "If you do not vant to talk about it now," he replied, "I understand. I vas just checking in, as you asked me to." Kurt began to move back, as if making to leave hallway. Then to Logan, cheer: "Velcome back to zee mansion, Logan."

And then he was gone, vanished in a puff of dark smoke and sulphur.

* * *

**(Storm)**

Ororo blanked out for several seconds after Kurt teleported away. She ran through his words, over and over again, trying to sort out a possible meaning. _'As you asked me to...'_

Logan looked at her expectantly, waiting for some kind of explanation. She averted her eyes to the floor instead of meeting his gaze, trying to think of what to say. Seconds passed as she studied the dark panelling. It was an underused floor, polished and smooth, from the lack of teachers...

...Floor?

_The_ _floor._

Her head snapped up. "Logan," she demanded, "where do you think he went?"

Logan raised a doubtful eyebrow. "How the hell should I—"

But she caught him by the wrist and started dragging him down the hall. _The floor! Of course._ Kurt would know. Kurt had to know. _What else could he have been talking about?_

"We have to find him," Ororo informed the man distantly, distracted by the possibilities running through her mind. "Do you think you could track him down?"

Logan only grunted and pulled from her grip, striding ahead.

XxX

They found him in the recreation room, sitting with Bobby and Angel. Kurt looked up, a little surprised, but no one had time to speak before Ororo cut to the chase.

"Kurt, I would like to speak with you in my office."

Silence fell as Kurt nodded and stood; he was clearly confused at being so urgently summoned hardly minutes after his previous depart. As he exited the room, the weather-witch took him by the arm and pulled him out of sight of Warren and Bobby. But instead of heading towards her office, she half-dragged him to the teacher's wing, straight to her room.

"'Ro," Logan spoke for the first time in several minutes, having followed them despite his lack of spoken invitation. "This ain't your office."

"I know," she said, looking more than a little ruffled. "There is something I need both of you to see."

"Mizz Munroe," Kurt seemed uncomfortable. "Doez zis have anyzing to do vith—"

He cut off as Ororo propelled him into her room and towards the bathroom, Logan on their heels. Kurt opened his mouth to protest at the last second, but whatever he was going to say never made it out. In Ororo's hands now hung the limp, dirtied material of her X-suit, the bloody shreds already brown and congealed. She watched their faces carefully, waiting for a reaction. Her heart was pounding in her throat, adrenaline running through her system. It was like her body knew something her mind didn't, like something bad was about to happen.

Or like something bad had happened already.

"Storm..." Kurt looked between Ororo and the suit, a deep crease between his brows. "I do not understand. Doez zis have to do vith last night? Are you sure you are okay?"

Maybe it was the blatant confusion on his face that drove her nerves over the edge, or maybe it was Logan, his frame nearly filling the doorway, just standing there with his arms folded and that casually expectant expression on his face. Maybe it was both. But her composure collapsed.

"That's just it!" Ororo threw up her hands, flouncing the suit around in the air as she did. "I don't _know_. I don't _remember_. I can't remember what happened at _all_ yesterday. I woke up this morning and..." She sighed heavily, letting her eyes fall closed for a moment. Her hands came to rest at her sides.

Eventually she looked up, catching Kurt's bewildered gaze.

"I need you to tell me about yesterday. I need to know how _this_ happened." The suit's existence was again brought to their attention as she shook it repeatedly, and hardly a foot from Kurt's face.

Eyes wide, the Nightcrawler could only nod vigorously.

* * *

They'd gone to the War Room at Logan's suggestion. Ororo had agreed only on the premise that the Junior X-Men needn't be involved yet. And there would be no prying eyes or ears in the War Room. None that could escape the Wolverine, at least.

Ororo could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Kurt had detailed an entire day she couldn't remember living.

According to the Nightcrawler, they had received a suspicious call from a mutant asking for help with his – it had been a man – mutation. She and Kurt had traced the call to a payphone, and Storm had been unwilling to bring the Junior Team along – for what reasons, however, she did not divulge. The caller had asked to meet at a specific location, and he'd given coordinates as well as an address.

Ororo had made sure, Kurt said, that she would be able to call him at any time, that he was on hand if needed. Then she'd promptly suited up and left – not in the Blackbird, but in Scott's old car. He didn't hear a word from her the entire night, had eventually fallen asleep several hours into his watch, and had then found both Ororo and Logan together in the hall the next morning.

Kurt had gone on to hurriedly suggest that perhaps she'd been in a fight, received a concussion, and managed to get home without other incident, and that was why she couldn't remember. The way he'd spoken, it was as if he knew it was a feeble excuse. Ororo had only shaken her head in response. She'd had concussions before, and they were nothing like this.

"A concussion also doesn't explain _this_." She waved a helpless hand at the bloody tatters of her abused suit, which now hung neatly over the back of an empty chair. It appeared to have been shredded as if dragged across a colossal cheese-grater. "I did dress myself this morning, and I would certainly know if I had any of the injuries to match."

To this Logan grunted. "Maybe you've developed a secondary mutation: the _Get Beat To Hell, Heal, Then Forget Everything_ mutation. Looks like we've got something in common now, 'Ro."

She frowned at him. "This is serious, Logan."

"I am serious." He almost looked serious, too. "'Sides. I don't see anybody else with another suggestion." He leaned back in his chair, huge arms again folded across his chest.

Ororo sagged tiredly in her own chair, elbows propped on the table and fingers at her temples.

"I cannot remember anything, Kurt. Not even waking up that morning, or eating breakfast... yet I this morning I remembered that I had an interview... It's only what happened yesterday that I strike a blank." She looked up, searching the faces of her companions, gaze lingering on Logan. His body was relaxed but his eyes were intense, focused almost solely on her. The atmosphere was heavy with unease and silence.

Kurt had his three-fingered hands folded neatly on the table in front of him, as if he was about to pray. He was staring at the interlaced digits, studying them as if they might hold an answer.

He broke the silence: "I think I still have zee location that zee caller gave us. You wrote it down twice, one for me to keep and one for you." He lifted his head, eyes flicking between those of his company; his face was unreadable. "I should still have zee paper. Do you vant me to get it?"

Ororo was struck by the sense that Kurt had grown uncomfortable very suddenly. But she nodded, levelling necessity over curiosity. Kurt stood and, for once, exited through the door.

Logan all but pounced on her the moment the door thudded closed.

"What the hell were you thinking, going on a mission alone?" He demanded, shattering the stillness. "Dammit, 'Ro, you know better than that!"

More than a little taken aback, Ororo jumped to her own defence. "Logan – you cannot accuse me of something I don't even remember! If I chose to go alone, I must have had good reason. You cannot just sit there and—"

"I can, and I am," he snapped back. "From the looks of things, you could've gotten yourself killed. And counting on the elf to back you up! 'Crawler's a damn pacifist, the only reason he's even here is because he has no place else to go! He's no X-Man!" He was suddenly on his feet and pacing, fuming. Whatever relaxed posture he'd previously possessed had vanished. He was a mass of very angry, very tense muscle. Ororo could feel it in the air like static.

She held her ground, watching him pace. _There's no interrupting him now._

"The Juniors still aren't old enough," he ploughed on. "I'll give you that. Alcatraz doesn't matter. They held out that day, but only barely, and that was against a bunch of untrained, low-level mutants. They're not ready. But dammit, you shouldn't have gone alone. Not without at least _telling_ them, telling _somebody_. You should've..."

The weather-witch held back a sharp retort. _Who was I supposed to call? You?_ His rant seemed to be running dry, but suddenly he reached the base of his anger.

"We've already lost three good people! You're the only one capable of running this damn school – we can't afford to lose you too! We're all that's left, 'Ro. You, me, Hank, and the 'Crawler. 'Crawler don't even count, and Hank only fights when he doesn't have a damn choice!"

Now he looked up at her, finished, waiting for a response.

Ororo stood and slowly rounded the table to stand next to him, feeling a little numb. When she spoke her voice was quiet.

"I don't know what happened. I don't know why I went alone. I don't remember anything about yesterday." She touched a hand to his arm, catching his eye. His gaze flickered with something she couldn't quite identify. "We'll figure this out. _Please_ try to be reasonable. We can't afford to lose our heads now."

Kurt chose then to hurry in, again through the door. Obviously he'd learned his lesson for the day. Now he stood there, looking awkward, with a single slip of paper in his hand. He said nothing, an unmoving shadow in the dim light of the War Room. A shadow with yellow, glowing eyes.

Suddenly feeling very conscious of herself, Ororo quickly removed her hand from Logan's arm. She felt him shift his weight – a soundless, very subtle movement that, somehow, she was all too aware of.

"You found it?" A mysterious – and unwanted – flush of embarrassment coloured her voice. Her heart had sped up a bit – as if she'd been caught thieving the entire jar and not just the cookie. She dismissed the feeling as frazzled nerves and beckoned the blue man out of the shadows. But her fingers tingled for several seconds more, where they'd been in contact with his skin.

Kurt handed her the paper.

"Zis is all you left me," he said, wringing his now empty hands. "Only coordinates and a name."

Ororo studied the scrap and Logan looked on over her shoulder. _It's certainly my handwriting..._ Yet her memory was still blank. The name meant nothing to her.

She didn't look up, still studying the scrap. "The name is...?"

"An abandoned factory."

Unexpectedly, Logan had beaten Kurt to the punch. Ororo looked up this time, surprised. He continued, "I know where that is. Passed it loads of times on my way north. It's just a little east of here, on the edge of the '95." He paused, brows pulling nearer together. "In fact, I passed it comin' down here. This mornin', about seven-thirty. Didn't see Scott's car anywhere at all."

Logan's eyes locked with Ororo's for several seconds; his gaze was intense, eyes clouded with... _No, it couldn't be worry, could it?_

Finally, she turned to Kurt again.

"Are you sure you've thought of everything?"

The Nightcrawler dipped his head. "I have told you everyzing I know. I am sorry I cannot be of more assistance."

"Don't be sorry, Kurt. You've done all you can. Thank you," she added sincerely, "for helping us. I don't know what's going on, but we _will_ find out."

"But not today," Logan put in, leaning forward over Ororo's shoulder. He'd folded his arms again and looked very convinced that his statement was final.

A spark of something hot ignited in her chest. _Is that so? _Ororo turned and regarded Logan with a steady, inquiring gaze, challenging him to back himself up.

He did.

"You're in no state to go on a mission," he told her factually. "An' if you're set on keepin' all this from the Juniors, us up an' leavin' the day I get back would be way too suspicious. No doubt they're already whisperin', 'specially after watchin' us leave with Wagner." He stopped her before she could cut in. "An' there's no way in _hell_ you're goin' alone this time. I'll be comin' with ya whether you like it 'r not."

And he stopped, staring back at her with an expression that said, _I have spoken, and what I say goes._

Ororo straightened and stared him down, the once-simple spark flaring into a flame at her core. This was _her_ school, and he was part of _her_ team. Who was he to make her decisions for her? Who was he to tell her if she was capable of going on a mission? He finally decides to grace the Institute with his presence, and then starts telling her what's good for her? _Who does he think he is?_

"I will do what I see fit, concerning _both_ myself and my students." Her eyes narrowed. "I appreciate your concern, _Wolverine_, but you're in no position to order me around."

It was his turn to stiffen.

"When my _teammates_ come within an inch of death –" he tossed a hand at the mysterious leather remains of her X-suit across the room – "I'm inclined to tell them what I think is best for their _health_, and allowing you to leave on this mission damn well _doesn't_–"

"You are not in a position to _allow_ me anything!"

The room crackled with static electricity, but neither was aware. A tense silence had descended, thick enough to cut. Neither mutant moved, their gazes unwavering. Ororo's hands were clenched, nails curved into the skin of her palms; Logan's jaw was set and his arms were tense at his sides. The argument had suddenly transformed into a game of chicken.

Seconds passed. The room was frozen.

_Beepbeepbeepbeep-beepbeepbeepbeep-beepbeepbeepbeep..._

The tinny sound sliced through the silence. Snapped from their reverie, Ororo and Logan turned their gazes on their forgotten companion. Kurt fumbled with something on his wrist, hands shaking.

_Beepbeepbeepbeep-beepbeepbeepbeep-beepbeepbeepbeep..._

He cursed in German under his breath, until finally he made the noise stop. An alarm on his watch – the only item of technology he used aside from his X-communicator – had gone off. He looked up, nervous embarrassment in his eyes. His cheeks flushed a slightly darker blue and he began wringing his hands again.

"Ah... s-sorry," he mumbled.

Ororo looked down at the floor, closed her eyes, and ran her hand through her hair. Surprise had extinguished the hot anger in her chest, leaving behind a heavy fatigue.

She quickly weighed her options, reviewing her argument with Logan.

And with a sigh, she decided.

"We'll leave early tomorrow morning," she informed the two men. "There are no Danger Room sessions scheduled for several days, and most of the students will sleep in. Logan and I will have several hours to investigate the factory." She paused, trying to summon the energy to fulfil her role as leader again. "In the event of a threat – whatever it may be – we will all keep a close eye out. Anything suspicious is to be reported to me, understand?"

Ororo looked between Kurt and Logan, searching their faces. The men's' expressions were opposite: Kurt's uneasy, Logan's bordering triumph. _His victory will be short lived,_ she thought to herself.

"But until then," she went on seriously, "Kurt, I want you to stay with the other students. Logan, now that you're back, your old room is vacant – after you finish unpacking, I'd like to see you in my office."

He lifted a suspicious eyebrow but said nothing.

Kurt was nodding vigorously, like a broken bobble-head. "I vill do vhat I can, Ororo," he said, and a moment later nothing but a cloud of dark smoke remained in his place.

The two mutants turned to face each other, now alone in the War Room. Ororo met Logan's eyes once more, but this time she offered a small smile.

"I _am_ glad you decided to come back to us," she told him. Logan didn't reply, simply inclined his head, regarding her with an unreadable expression. Ororo, not knowing what to think of his reaction, only turned away and started for the door.

They walked in silence all the way to the elevator. When the doors of the lift slid open at the mansion's ground level, they exchanged a single glance and turned their separate ways without another word.

But, all the while, lingering on the cusp of Ororo's mind was the phantom sensation of Logan's skin against her own.

* * *

END THIS CHAP. *headdesk*

Now I'm going to go POWER STUDY my history notes and then DIE IN BED.

Thank you for reading. I can't guarantee a speedy-next-update. *cries* Sorry. Life is busy. And by life I mean homework-load. Oh, sophomore year.

-Dots


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